Talking in Riddles
by AquaAditi
Summary: Albus Severus Potter is the second child of Harry Potter. He's always been inadvertently ignored and underestimated by his family, growing up in his siblings' shadow. His first year at Hogwarts brings mystery, tragedy, and is bursting with opportunities. Can he make a name for himself, or will he always be "famous Harry Potter's son"?
1. Prologue

Prologue

The man's footsteps were silent, like those of a cat's. He walked with long, purposeful, fast-paced strides that befitted his tall, lean figure. The air was crisp; the cold was biting, but the man did not shiver. His features were hidden underneath a hood, and his cloak billowed quietly behind him as he navigated skillfully through a thick maze of trees.

Almost as if by magic, he pushed apart two uncharacteristically thin trees, revealing a gigantic, moonlit clearing, filled with people. He stepped through, and a sudden, deathly quiet hush fell over the crowd, as if a cloak had fallen over them, eliminating all sound.

The man ignored the curious stares and climbed up onto a flat, plateau-like rock that was elevated above the land like a stage. He was the alpha male and they were the wolf pack. Without pulling back his hood, he began to speak.

"My wizards and witches, it is with great satisfaction that I gather you here. I have discovered that all is not lost. The Dark Lord may be dead, but we will carry out his wishes. We will complete what he never had the chance to complete. And the world will know that his ashes live on."

If the crowd was curious as to the man's identity, they did not show it. Rather, they seemed somewhat afraid of crossing this man.

"Hail!" the crowd murmured as one. They formed a line, single file, in front of the speaker. Then, one by one, he touched the tip of his wand to their upper left arm and uttered a soft spell, causing each person to shriek with pain.

The hooded man then took a few steps back, tucking his wand into his robes, shrewd, cold gray eyes sweeping the crowd. His sharp vision caught a wizard moving away from the rest of the crowd. Instantly his mental radar locked, and he whipped out his wand. There was a flash of green light, and instantly the wizard lay dead on the ground. He had paid dearly for his mistake.

The man then produced a stone, black with a large crack down the middle, and stroked it gently. He seemed to be lost in his own world, forgetting about the wizards who were watching him in awe. Then suddenly, he seemed to snap to reality. He turned once again to the assembly of wizards standing in front of him. "You may leave. But do not forget what happens to those who are unfaithful."

The crowd's silence grew to a murmur, and then to a rumble that sounded like thunder as they dispersed. Alone, the man threw back his hood, revealing his pale skin; stretched tightly over his bones, and began to pace up and down. His dark hair blew slightly in the breeze. The moon cast a bright light onto his handsome, angular face.

"It is time to take action," he muttered to himself. He then strode over to a large tree, and, with his wand, drew a strange pattern on the tree. It shifted away from its spot, revealing a round wooden door, which the man opened. He lifted out a creature that was no more than a lump of flesh with weak arms and legs, like a baby. Its face, if it could be called that, was snakelike and flat.

"They will pay, pay for ever believing that you could die," he said. He laughed, an unearthly sound, terrible and great. The baby seemed to quiver with excitement. "My dear father," he whispered to it, almost lovingly. "Soon you will be reunited with your son."

The baby said nothing, only flailed its arms pitifully.

"And when we rise together, my name will be as well-known and feared as yours, father. The last thing these Muggles and Mudbloods will know is how cruel I can be!"


	2. Chapter 1: Diagon Alley

Chapter 1: Diagon Alley

Albus Severus Potter looked exactly like his father. He had the same jet-black hair, the same almond-shaped, bottle-green eyes framed by round glasses; he was identical to Harry Potter, in fact, right down to his wiry build.

He tried to be a good son. He really did. But he somehow always managed to get into trouble, one way or the other. It wasn't his fault that the Muggle neighbour's dog ate a Puking Pastille. It had been a stupid dog anyways; all it ever did was eat and sleep and try to kill Albus. It wasn't his fault that he had accidentally turned James' hair into a bunch of squiggly worms—he didn't even have a wand, he told his parents, so how could he have done it?

Albus was miserable. Eleven years of getting into trouble and getting made fun of by his brother and being outshone at activities by his sister. Eleven torturous years.

"Well no more," said Albus angrily to his reflection in the mirror. "I'm not taking any more crap from _anyone_."

"Ha!" said James, peeping in at Albus' door. "You're gonna get into Slytherin, I can tell."

"Oh really? I bet you had to bribe the teachers to put you in Gryffindor."

"The teachers don't choose your house, you idiot."

"You never told me who does choose your house."

"You never asked."

"Yes I did! What a liar! I asked you—"Albus was interrupted by the arrival of his mother, Ginny Potter.

"Boys!" exclaimed his mother. "Cut it out!"

"Mom, James says I'm going to Slytherin!"

"You know better than to take him seriously, Albus," she said calmly. "Now get in the car. You and James will go with your father."

"We're _leaving_?" asked Albus. "Where?"

"Hurry up." Albus' mother left the room.

"Where are we going, James?"

"Shut up, just get in the car!"

Albus trudged down the steps after James.

James slipped into the car, followed by Albus.

Albus stared moodily out the car window for the rest of the trip, wondering how it would be to have no brothers or sisters. He almost wished he had grown up like his father, famous Harry Potter; without being surrounded by people who were constantly better than him.

There was a tiny beetle crawling on the outside lining of the window. Albus studied it, his nose pressing into the glass and his eyes crossing just a bit. That beetle was probably happier than he was.

Half an hour later, the tiny, aging pub, invisible to Muggles, known as the Leaky Cauldron, came into view. Albus watched his father nod towards Tom the barman. He then walked out the back door. James followed, and Albus had gotten about halfway there when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw a tall man in a thick coat, with a hat that shadowed his eyes.

"Yeah?" he snapped.

"Albus, are you?"

"That's for me to know and you to—"

The man interrupted him with a strong hand over Albus' mouth. "You're coming with me."

"Dad!" Albus tried to cry, but his dad and James had already disappeared through the door. The man took his hand off of Albus' mouth. Immediately, Albus opened his mouth to yell but the man gave him a threatening look.

"One word and you'll never see daylight again."

The man began walking down a hallway, and judging by the vicelike grip that he had on Albus' upper arm, Albus has no choice but to follow. He looked around in order to make some signal for help. To his surprise, no one seemed to even notice. Everyone seemed frozen.

"Why can't anyone see us?" Albus asked under his breath.

"I'm invisible. I have contact with you, therefore you are invisible."

"But I saw you!"

"Shhhh," growled the man, tightening his hold on Albus' arm.

"Sorry…I mean, I saw you," said Albus, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"You're different, boy, haven't you noticed?"

"But…different? Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Where are you taking me?"

"One question at a time! I don't know if it's good or bad, I'm not a fortune teller! I'm just the timekeeper!"

"Timekeeper?" said Albus. "What's that?"

"Hang on," muttered the man, turning into a medium-sized room bursting with sunlight. Albus followed him in. "All right. We don't have much time."

"Who are you?"

"I am the Timekeeper."

"Yeah, but what do you do? What is your occupation?"

"I regulate time. But I have you here for a different reason. I am here to deliver to you a message."

"A message?" asked Albus.

"Hush!" said the Timekeeper. He closed his eyes and thought for a second. "_Albus Severus Potter, second son of Harry Potter,_" he began, and his voice was eerie. "_you must disprove that which has already been proven._"

There was silence.

"Er…is there any more?" asked Albus.

"Go!" growled the Timekeeper suddenly. "Leave! You have under 20 seconds!"

"Wh—what?"

"Run‼"

Albus sprinted out of the room and past all the frozen people until he reached the doorway. He stopped for a couple of seconds to catch his breath, wondering why the room was deathly silent. He looked around. Suddenly, as if a switch had been activated, everyone began to move around as if nothing had happened. A few people waved to Albus. Slightly confused, Albus turned and slipped through the back door to find his father and James waiting for him.

"Sorry," panted Albus, "this man called me to deliver a message or something—"

"How?" asked James.

"Whaddya mean, how?"

"I saw you just thirty seconds ago!"

Mr. Potter tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Are you feeling all right, Al?"

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine," mumbled Albus, now sure that he was going mad.

Their father tapped a brick above the trashcan, and one by one the bricks shifted to form an arch. Albus' breath caught in his throat as he had his first glimpse into a complex that was colourful, noisy, and bursting with life.

"Diagon Alley," said his father.

"We have to go to Gringotts first, don't we, dad?" asked James. Their dad nodded. They started walking toward a marble building in the distance. The building was white, but it was far from cheerful: Albus was slightly intimidated by its imposing shadow. As they walked in, Albus noticed that everything was sparkling clean; floor polished to perfection, windows almost invisible, walls white as snow.

As the three reached the counter, Albus felt a jolt of surprise. No one had told him that goblins ran Gringotts.

"Your key, sir?" asked the goblin at the counter, peering down at them from behind his tiny glasses.

Mr. Potter pulled a silver key out of his pocket and handed it to the goblin. "Vault 687."

The goblin examined the key, nodded, and motioned to another goblin in the corner. "Follow him," he said, handing back the key. They followed the goblin down a sloping hallway until they reached a huge cave. The goblin snapped his fingers, and a cart came rattling towards them. Albus followed the goblin into the cart, and after a few seconds, so did James and Mr. Potter.

"Are there seatbelts _this_ time?" asked James.

"No seatbelts," said the goblin, smiling a rather nasty smile.

The cart set off at breakneck speed, passing turns and vaults and dragons and other goblins. At some point, the cart stopped to let another one pass, and Albus took a moment to glance at James, who looked rather green. Surprised, Albus realized he himself was enjoying the ride. He'd always loved rollercoasters.

After collecting their money, they went from store to store, consulting the list James and Albus had received days before.

They first visited Madame Malkin's store; buying black school robes. Then they entered Flourish and Botts, where they bought the following books:

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 _by Miranda Goshawk

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk [for James]

_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

_Dark Arts: Seductive, Surprising, and Sweet_ by Pravus Sanguis

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

_A Study of Mudbloods _by Dolores Umbridge

_Magical Theory _by Aldabert Waffling

_Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger

_Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard

"That's strange," said James, looking at his father. "Why do they have a book about the Dark Arts? And isn't the word 'Mudblood' offensive or something?"

A shadow passed over their father's face. "What are they thinking?"

"What's wrong, Dad?" asked Albus. "Why'd they pick such weird books?"

"I'm sure the Professor will have had his reasons," replied his dad. "I'll write to McGonagall." He muttered something that sounded like "_Umbridge…crazy…_" They purchased their books and continued out of the store to Eeylops Owl Emporium.

"Albus," began his father, "How would you like an owl?"

"He doesn't need an owl," James interrupted. "He can use mine."

"James, while I'm sure your intentions are…generous—I hope—I think Albus has the right to his own owl." Sticking his tongue out at James, Albus stepped into the store with anticipation written all over his face. His eyes immediately fell on a cage that seemed to be empty. Intrigued, he took a few steps closer, and then he realized that the cage wasn't empty: it had an owl in it. The owl was jet-black, like his own hair. The own, which had been staring at the entrance for a while, turned its head to look at him. Its eyes seemed to bore a hole in his.

"Dad," he said quietly. "Dad, can I have her?" His father smiled, and within minutes, they had paid and exited the shop.

"Why'd you choose a black one, Albus?" James asked. "Black owls are so ugly."

"She's not ugly!" cried Albus.

"Al, he was just asking a question," said his father. "Why don't you just explain why you chose her?"

"I don't know," replied Albus truthfully. "I just…I like her."

James made a face at him. Next, they arrived at the apothecary's, which was smelly, but very interesting. The shelves were lined with jars and bottles with very interesting labels, like Pickled Newt's Eyes and Roasted Puffskein Tongues. Albus couldn't stop looking at everything.

"Come _on_, Albus," James said, pulling him out of the shop after they had paid. "Your eyes are bugging out."

They walked around for a while, then Albus realized he was starving. "Can we have ice cream, dad?" he asked, noticing a shop entitled "Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour".

They sat down at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. James went up to order his ice cream.

"He was a good man, Florean," said Mr. Potter quietly to Albus. "I remember, he used to help me out with my homework and give me free ice-cream sundaes."

They were silent for a while, and then Albus asked, "What do you mean, 'was' a good man?"

"He's dead," said his father. Albus had never heard his father talk about his fighting experiences, though the kids had begged him innumerable times.

"Dead," Albus repeated. "What happened to him?"

"He was kidnapped and then murdered by Voldemort's Death Eaters."

"Dad!" interrupted James loudly. "Don't say the name! What are you talking about anyways?"

"Never mind," said their father quickly. "Albus, do you want an ice cream?" There was an uneasy feeling in Albus' stomach now; while seconds ago, he had been ravenously hungry; now, he seemed to have lost his appetite.

"No," he mumbled. He noticed that his father did not buy an ice cream either.

"To Ollivander's, then," he said.

"Dad, will you buy me another ice cream?" cried James. He had polished off the first. "They've got a new flavour, and it's supposed to make your tongue fall out. Albus can get his wand on his own, right?"

"Albus, is that all right with you?" asked his father, handing James a couple of Galleons.

"Yeah, whatever," mumbled Albus, still feeling queasy. He broke into a brisk walk towards Ollivander's, the wand store. As soon as he opened the door, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. This place seemed to be full of a tingly magic. Since the store was empty, Albus took a seat on a rickety chair. He looked around, marveling at the rows and rows of boxes.

"Mister Potter," said a quavery voice, and Albus gave a violent start. Then he noticed a man who had previously been in the shadows. He was tall, thin, with white hair and silvery eyes. A bit creepy, really. "I still remember the day I met your father. Twenty-four years ago. 11-and-a-half inches, holly. Phoenix feather core."

Albus could not think of anything to say, so he just said, "Er."

"Here, try this wand." The man, who Albus assumed was Ollivander himself, held out a wand.

Albus held it, feeling silly. "Well, give it a wave!" exclaimed Ollivander. Albus waved it, and it shot red sparks at a vase nearby. The vase crashed, splintering into a thousand tiny pieces. "No…not quite…" muttered Ollivander. He fished out a box and pulled out the wand. "Try this. Mahogany, unicorn tail hair." Albus took the wand and waved it. It flew out of his hand and hit Ollivander on the forehead, causing a purple boil to spring up. "Absolutely not!" cried Ollivander, waving the wand and making the boil disappear. He pulled out another wand, which produced similar results. Wand after wand Albus tried, and as the pile of tried wands grew larger, so did Albus' doubt. _What if I'm not really a wizard? What if there's no wand for me? What if…_

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the arrival of his father. He supposed he had been in the shop so long that his father had started to worry.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," said Ollivander, and he actually gave him a small smile.

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander," said his father, nodding respectfully. Then he turned to Albus. "What's wrong? Why is it taking so long?"

"Ever wand I try…it doesn't…it won't…" Albus trailed off, looking helplessly at Ollivander.

Mr. Potter surveyed his son's face carefully in the dim light, his eyes flickering to the huge pile of wands and then back to Albus. Then, he pulled out his own wand and handed it to his son. "Try this. It hasn't worked properly for me since…"

_Since what?_ Albus wanted to ask. Now extremely embarrassed, he wrapped his fingers around the slim wand. A sudden, warm, pleasant wind whipped through him, and when he waved the wand, it sent out a bunch of silver sparks. Albus felt like he could sing. Finally, here was a wand that actually worked for him. He didn't notice the two men giving him curious stares until he looked up.

"I suppose you don't need to pay, then," said Ollivander finally. Albus felt bad then, and he stepped forward and pulled five Galleons out of his pocket and put them on the counter.

Ignoring Ollivander's protests, he said firmly, "Thanks for putting up with me; that's a large pile of wands." His father smiled.

As they walked out the store towards James, who was waiting for them, Albus said to his father, "What will you do without a wand?"

"Oh, I have one," replied his father. "That's not the problem, really. Let's not talk about this right now, okay?" Albus nodded and slipped into the car next to James, and they drove off home.


	3. Chapter 2: The Hogwarts Express

The next day, they were up early again, packing hurriedly. Albus said nothing of the wand incident to his brother. He stuffed a stray sock into his trunk and threw his owl a fond glance. It had been unusually quiet; though he hadn't let it out. All it did was stare at him. He still couldn't decide what to name it. James had named his own owl "Turtle" a year ago, and was now regretting his decision. Albus did not want to make the same mistake.

"Come on, James, Albus!" came the voice of their mother, floating up the stairs. "Grab a bite, and then we need to get going."

Albus shoved a slice of bread into his mouth, then clambered into the car. "We're going to be so late," he groaned.

"It's all your fault, Al," said James, elbowing Albus playfully. Instead of being affected by James' teasing, as he usually was, Albus retorted sarcastically with—

"Ooh, yeah, I was secretly planning to make us all late, because I really don't want to go to Hogwarts."

"Secretly planning? I just knew you'd be in Slytherin." All of Albus' happiness went crashing down.

"I am NOT going to be in Slytherin!"

"Oh really?" The boys went on bickering until they reached King's Cross station.

After walking through the barrier, they met up with the Weasleys. His father greeted them with a "Ron! Hermione!"

To which Mr. Weasley replied, "Parked all right, then? I did. Hermione didn't believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you? She thought I'd have to Confund the examiner."

"No, I didn't," said Mrs. Weasley, "I had complete faith in you."

"As a matter of fact, I did Confund him," her husband whispered.

Albus ran over to where James was standing, and they resumed the argument about Albus' house. James just laughed and gave Albus a kick. "See ya, Al. Watch out for the thestrals."

"I thought they were invisible? _You said they were invisible!_"

Then the Hogwarts Express began to puff, and Albus ran over to say goodbye to his father.

"Bye, Al," said his dad as Albus hugged him. "Don't forget Hagrid's invited you to tea next Friday. Don't mess with Peeves. Don't duel anyone till you've learned how. And don't let James wind you up."

"What if I get into Slytherin?" Albus asked, and his father saw the real despair in his face.

"Albus Severus," his father said quietly, "…you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew."

"But just say—"

"—then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, won't it? It doesn't matter to us, Al. But if it matters to you, you'll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account."

"Really?"

"It did for me," said Mr. Potter.

He had never told any of his children that before, and he saw the wonder in Albus's face when he said it.

Albus stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, somewhat uplifted by the fact that the Sorting Hat, or whatever it was, took his own choice into account. He lugged his owl and trunk around, looking for an empty compartment. He then spotted one, and dragged his stuff in, and sat down. It was only then that he noticed a girl sitting across from him, nose buried in a magazine.

She was slender and seemed to be tall, only half an inch shorter than Albus. Her hair was blonde and it was tied back in a shoulder length ponytail. Albus squinted, trying to read the magazine cover. _The Quibbler_.

The girl must have noticed his gaze, because she looked up. Her eyes were a startling bright blue. "Hello, first time here?" she said, and her voice was rather dreamy, as though she was thinking about something.

"Hi. And yeah, first year."

"Me too. Are you one of the Potters? You look like one."

"Yeah, I'm Albus."

"I'm Syrena," she said, and then added, "Lovegood. My mother's told me all about your dad, you know. He's Harry Potter."

"I know he is," said Albus.

"Well, of course you do," she said. There was a moment of silence, and then she asked, "Are you planning to study…and you know, get good scores?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?"

"You don't seem like the kind of guy who…studies."

"How can you make a decision on that without even knowing me?"

"I dunno. I just have these…hunches, you could call them. It's like instinct."

"More like being judgemental," muttered Albus.

"Excuse me? I heard that."

"I don't care," snapped Albus.

"I hope you fail!"

"Same to you! Annoying girl."

Syrena sniffed and returned to her magazine.

After a while, Albus took out a spellbook and began to try learning a Trip Jinx. It seemed like a good idea at the time, though later, he reflected, he wouldn't really be able to use it.

"Inconcinnus!" he muttered, pointing his wand at a rat that had just scurried across the floor. Nothing happened. There came a snort from the other side of the compartment, and Albus needed no convincing about who had done so.

"I could do better," she said snidely.

"Yeah? Let's see it then!"

"Inconcinnus!" she cried, pointing her wand at the rat. It stumbled over its own feet and rolled into the corner, trembling. Albus narrowed his eyes. When he didn't say anything, she sniffed and he heard the ruffling of pages.

"Inconcinnus!" he cried, pointing his wand at the rat; it was trying to escape. Nothing happened.

Syrena gave a derisive laugh, pulled her robes out of her trunk, and tugged them on. Just then, the food trolley arrived.

Albus didn't really feel hungry, so he didn't buy anything off the trolley. When they finally arrived at Hogwarts, and the announcement came telling them to leave their belongings in the train, he felt relieved. They continued out of the train, and were met by a huge, hairy man whom Albus supposed was Hagrid. Though he looked intimidating, Albus noticed that underneath his beard, he was smiling, and his smile went all the way up to his eyes. "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"

Albus made his way towards Hagrid, followed closely by Syrena.

"Hello," said Hagrid, "Yer Albus, are yeh?"

"Yeah," said Albus, grinning up at Hagrid.

"I can tell yer going ter be jus' as naughty as yer father. An' who's this lovely young lady?"

Albus grimaced. The stupid girl made him sick.

"I'm Syrena," said Syrena, with a small smile.

"Luna Lovegood's daughter, eh?"

She nodded.

"She was a great girl, Luna was. Know what? You can come to tea at me hut too. Friday, firs' years have afternoons off."

Albus let out a groan, and Hagrid gave him a curious look but said nothing.

Then they followed Hagrid toward a small fleet of boats. Hagrid got into the one in the front. Albus climbed into the one behind, nearly tipping the boat over, and was joined by Syrena Lovegood, a tall blonde boy who looked suspiciously like a man that Albus' father had pointed out earlier; and a mildly chubby boy who was of average height.

They set off toward the castle. Albus suddenly realized how very impressive it was; James' descriptions had not done it justice. He imagined, years into the future, being Head Boy and making his parents proud.

As the castle got closer and closer, Albus was so absorbed in his fantasies that he didn't notice the boats come to an abrupt halt. Since he didn't brace himself, he was violently jerked from his seat and almost toppled head over heels into the water—but he suddenly felt a pair of rather strong arms gripping his elbows, yanking him back into the boat.

He turned to thank his saviour, and saw that it was the blonde boy. "Idiot," muttered the boy, scowling. Albus was so thrown by this statement that he forgot to thank him.

They all climbed off the boats and trudged behind Hagrid towards the front doors. Albus noticed that quite a few people had fallen into the lake. Then Hagrid raised a huge fist and knocked three times on the door.


	4. Chapter 3: The Sorting

Chapter 3

The door was opened by a tall, stately woman with dark gray hair in a tight bun. Albus' immediate impression was _strict, strict, strict._

"Good evening, Hagrid," she said, and she spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable correctly. "I will take the first years from here. First years, follow me." She led them to another pair of large doors. "You will now be sorted into your Houses. In a few minutes, the doors will open, and you must line up against the walls. I suggest you tidy yourselves up a bit; make yourselves presentable." Her eyes lingered on the on a boy who had chocolate smeared all over his mouth, and a girl who was covered in leaves. Then she turned and disappeared through the doors.

Albus couldn't even breathe for anticipation. His nerves were mounting higher and higher.

Then the doors opened, and all the first years crowded through, making a line against the wall. They were in a huge hall with four long tables. Albus found himself next to the chubby boy from the boat. The woman who had opened the door now stood in the front, carrying what looked like an old, patched-up, fraying hat. For a second, there was silence throughout the hall. Then a rip near the brim of the hat opened up, and the hat began to sing:

_Young wizards here, your minds are clean,_

_Fresh, like a blank slate,_

_Your future is determined by_

_The choices that you make._

_Don't say you're not being taught enough,_

_Or get in a big fit,_

_It's not what education gives you_

_It's what you get out of it._

_So put me on, don't hesitate,_

_Once I'm done with this song—_

_I'll think a bit, and then I'll tell you_

_In which House you belong._

_Perhaps you'll be in Gryffindor_

_Where bravery comes first_

_But Gryffindor's not what it seems_

_They house the best—and worst._

_Perhaps you'll be in Ravenclaw_

_If you love to be learning_

_Take a look inside your brain_

_You'll find that gears are turning._

_Perhaps you'll be in Hufflepuff_

_The House that's always fair_

_Those Hufflepuffs know what is right_

_Their heads aren't full of air._

_Perhaps you'll be in Slytherin_

_Where you will use your mind_

_Resourcefulness is a big must_

_For nature isn't kind._

_So now you know; the path is clear_

_Just make your way up fast_

_I will put you in your House_

_The waiting's done—at last!_

The entire Hall burst into applause, and Albus was now more nervous than ever. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead. The tall woman, who seemed to be the Headmistress, opened a large book, and began to call names.

"Anderson, Louis!" A rather short, cheerful looking boy made his way up, sat on the stool, and the hat shouted almost immediately, "Hufflepuff!" The boy made his way over to the cheering Hufflepuff table.

"Banterra, Julie!" A dull-eyed, brown-haired girl trudged towards the hat, plonked it on her head, and resignedly slouched toward the Slytherin table after the Sorting Hat yelled, "Slytherin!"

"Brown, Violet," was sorted into Gryffindor along with "Creevey, Robert."

"Davies, Annabelle," was put in Ravenclaw. Albus found himself tuning out; his head filling with negative thoughts. And then—

"Dursley, Theodore!" Albus jerked out of his stupor. _Dursley?!_ It sounded strangely familiar. And then it came to him—his father had told him about his. That was the surname of the Muggle family that had taken his father in. He made a mental note to write to his father about this. "Gryffindor!" Albus gave a small groan as the chubby boy from his boat, Theodore Dursley, strolled toward the Gryffindor table. Then the names became blurs, going by as fast as sand pours out of one's hand. Albus noticed movement in front of him, and sure enough, Syrena Lovegood was jamming the hat eagerly on her head. "Ravenclaw!"

A few names later, he heard, "Malfoy, Scorpius!" He supposed this was the blonde boy, and he was right; the blonde boy put the hat on his head. Albus fully expected the hat to cry out "Slytherin!" immediately, but to his surprise, it was on his head for a full minute before it shouted—

"Gryffindor!"

Total silence blanketed the Hall for a moment. Everyone knew the Malfoys were hardcore Slytherins. Even Scorpius looked slightly shocked. There was no applause.

And then, at long last—

"Potter, Albus!"

Heads turned as Albus made the impossibly long journey up to the front of the Hall. There were whispers everywhere; heightening Albus' fear. Albus tentatively placed the Hat on his head. The entire Hall fell silent, like moments before. Albus felt like a large, dead weight had been dropped onto his stomach. What if he was a Squib? What if he didn't belong in any house? What if he wasn't a real wizard? What if—

And then a tiny voice began to speak, as though inside Albus' head. "Well, well. Another Potter, eh? I had your father, you know. Hmm, and what do I see in your head here? Bravery, yes. But I see cunning, and ambition. I see hunger—hunger for power. Desperate to prove yourself. I think the house for you is Slytherin."

And Albus felt like he was dying, all was lost, the heavens were exploding; and then, just before the hat yelled his House to the entire Hall, he remembered what his father had said.

_No,_ he thought firmly. "No?" asked the hat quietly. "You would rather be in Gryffindor? Are you sure? It isn't what they all make it out to be, you know. It isn't what it used to be. Loyalty and true bravery are lost. Slytherin would be very good for you, Mr. Potter. It would help you do great things. It is the true House, now."

_Please, no, not Slytherin, please no…_

"No? Very sure? You do not belong in Gryffindor. Slytherin truly would suit you better. Certain? Well, then. I'll sort you into GRYFFINDOR!" Albus heard the hat shout the last word to the Hall. He was so relieved. So relieved. He felt as though he could do anything; the world was his oyster, he was so wrapped up in his relief that he barely noticed his feet carrying him toward the Gryffindor table, the deafening cheers and roars of laughter—laughter? It was then that Albus realized he was still wearing the hat. He ran back and tossed it to the next person. Then he hurried toward the Gryffindor table and seated himself next to James, who had scooted over to give him space. He even graced Albus with a pat on the back.

"Took like five minutes to decide with you, Al!" he cried. "I bet it considered putting you in—" Albus drew in a sharp breath. "—Hufflepuff," James was saying. _Phew._ Albus didn't think he was ready for anyone to know what the Sorting Hat said to him.

Then Albus noticed he was also sitting next to the blonde boy, Scorpius Malfoy. "Look who it is!" drawled the boy delightedly. "The idiot from the boat."

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you, _Scorpius Malfoy_," said Albus, surprised at his own boldness. "Don't forget, most Gryffindors won't be too pleased to have a Malfoy in their house." He expected a snarky retort, but was totally surprised at Malfoy's reply.

"You're right," he agreed with a sigh. "I suppose my father will disown me."

"Don't worry," said Albus. "I'll bet he hasn't forgotten a Gryffindor saved his life twice."

Malfoy nodded glumly.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Soon, too soon, in fact, for Albus' liking, the feast was over, and he was being led up to the common room. The password was, "Bubotuber pus," which Albus thought was quite disgusting. He found himself in a dormitory with Malfoy, Theodore Dursley, a Black boy named Wendell Thomas, and a sandy-haired boy named Marcus, or Mark, as he told them all, Finnigan. Albus gave his owl, Intrigue, an absent minded stroke, and then threw himself into bed, tossing his glasses tiredly onto the bedside table, and fell asleep.


End file.
